


we're mint to be

by xinchun (neomin)



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: M/M, flower shop au, mentioned yanren, the title is a plant pun not a typo ok rdfghj, yanjun's the customer and he's back at it again with his cold jokes, zhangjing is the florist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 18:43:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14338698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neomin/pseuds/xinchun
Summary: Yanjun buys flowers for two first dates - along with a few plant jokes.





	we're mint to be

 

Ring.

Along with the slight creaking of the door, the bells hanging from the ceiling signal the entry of a customer. The florist is sitting behind the counter and scrolling on his phone. At the sound, he puts his device – almost slamming them on the table – and feet, which previously were lifted and resting on another chair, down. He faces the person and puts his signature, warm smile.

The intoxicating fragrance welcomes the newly arrived customer – a mash-up of aromas of all kinds of flowers dewy-fresh from the market this morning or a few days ago, as long as it hasn’t been long enough for them to rot and lose their beauty. It’s overwhelming to the nose, having smelled these scents separately before, but never all together at once. It’s strangely relaxing, however.

“Hello,” Zhangjing greets and stands up. ”What can I do for you today?”

At the corner of his eyes, he can see through the glass windows a few students passing by outside of the cozy domain of the shop. It’s four in the afternoon - dismissal time - and the other, who is presumably younger by more or less a year as he’s still in school, was holding his bag in his hands and was wearing a familiar uniform – similar to those of the students – that the florist recognises as the senior students’ uniform of the university nearest to the shop. He’s had several customers of the same school times before, their broke selves purchasing only as much as a couple roses for their dates.

The customer smiles back at him. A dimple appears at the corner of his mouth and the florist’s heart almost skips a beat – it’s been a while since the last time he got a customer this attractive. He doesn’t realise he’s been staring at the stranger until the latter tilts his head, a subtle smirk creeping up on his lips, all while staying silent for a few seconds too long. The florist feels intimidated – the eyebrows play a big part in that, he would admit – but that was all until the former spoke. “You had me at aloe,” he says.

Dumbfounded, the smile on Zhanging’s lips vanish in a millisecond, literally turning almost upside down, at the customer’s lame plant pun. He just blinks at him, saying ‘Seriously?’ without having to move his lips.

“Hey, don’t kale my vibe,” the customer manages to say in a serious tone and he sticks out his bottom lip, pouting like a kid who didn’t get his candy.

Zhangjing lets out a chuckle, not at the pun but at how the customer is acting. It feels like they clicked instantly, and it’s refreshing to be casual with a customer for once. When he steps forward and approaches the counter, Zhangjing could see the nametag on the chest of his suit – the top button fastened

“So what are you here for?”

Yanjun stands still; he squints his eyes, almost like he forgot why exactly he went to a flower shop. “Ah,” he remarks, seemingly having remembered. “What do you usually get for first dates?”

Right. If someone as gorgeous as this person goes to buy flowers, it must be for his date.

There’s a small pang in Zhangjing’s heart and he would be lying if he said he isn’t at least a tiny bit disappointed – not that he would actually let himself crush on a customer which he might not even see again after. “Well, people usually get flowers for their date only on the third or fourth date,” he says. “But to be safe, a rose or two is enough for now,”

“Ah, I see,” He nods. “Two roses then,” he goes along with the florist’s suggestion.

“I’ll get them then,” Zhangjing says. He gestures, pointing his index finger to the waiting chairs beside the window. “Why don’t you sit for a moment?”

So Yanjun does. As his feet step forward, his hands make their way to his suit, fingers brushing over the surface of the top button. He unfastens it, slipping the button out and lets the suit fall to his sides. Only then does he sit down, propping his bag on his lap. Then Zhangjing enters the room behind the counter, painfully aware of Yanjun’s eyes boring into his back until the moment he disappears behind the door.

He opens the large refrigerator, the sudden rush of cool air tickling his skin. He takes two roses on the frontline, his thumb and index finger holding them gently by the stem. They’ve been here the longest time – not that long but for a couple of days – as Zhangjing puts the newly arrived ones at the back, last to be taken out, since they’d stay fresh for a few more days than the old ones at the front. He then slips the roses in a pretty, clear white flower sleeve before coming back out.

Yanjun stands up and quickly fastens his top button as he walks to the counter. “Thank you,” he says when Zhanging hands him the roses, their hands slightly brushing.

After that, everything happened quickly. Yanjun pays for it and gets out, but not before saying another thank you – to which Zhangjing blurts out a ‘See you again!’ in response. He could only watch as the other becomes further and further away.

 

It’s to Zhangjing’s surprise when Yanjun comes in the next day. Zhangjing would be lying if he said he isn’t glad to see him again. He finds himself smiling without having to force it.

Yanjun heads straight for the chairs, sitting down after unbuttoning his suit and placing his bag on the table. He leans back very casually and rests his arm on the armrest.

“So did the date go well?” he says, glancing at Yanjun every now and then, hoping it doesn’t look like he’s checking the other out although he is, in fact, checking the other out.

“Huh?” The same confused expression is on his face again until he realises. “Ah, my friend Yanchen just made me buy it for his date! Not mine,”

Zhangjing would also be lying if he said he isn’t at least the tiniest bit relieved to hear that. Looking at his phone, his head tilted down more than usual to hide whatever expression he may have on his face right now, he asks, “What are you here for today, then?”

“It’s actually just to bug you,”

“What,”

“Anyway,” he changes the topic. “I think if you were a flower you’d be a damndelion,” he jokes and half of Zhangjing is done with him, the other half alright with being annoyed as long as it means interacting more with Yanjun.

The older forces a chuckle to not look rude.

“That sounds so fake. I’m still hurt,” Yanjun complains and places a hand over his left chest right over where his heart would be and feigns pain, clutching around his uniform.

“Hey, Yanjun,” Zhangjing calls the now acquaintance by his name, prying his eyes away from his phone and Yanjun almost wonders how the florist knows his name before remembering the fact that he has a nametag pinned on his suit.

“What?”

“Knock knock,”

“Who’s there?”

“Leaf,”

“Leaf who,”

“Leaf me alone,”

Yanjun is surprised. He does the clutching-heart action again while trying to hide the smile creeping on his face. He was actually getting along with the cute florist boy.

 

Yanjun comes in the next day like it’s become tradition and Zhangjing doesn’t have to stand up and greet with a ‘What can I do for you today?’ anymore.

His cheek rests on his hand, his elbow on the armrest as he stares at the older dreamily. “You look so lonely every time I come here,”

The florist is taken aback by the somehow serious question. “Well, yeah I guess. But you get used to it.”

“Gives me a better reason to keep coming here then,” He winks and for some, Zhangjing feels like someone’s tickling the inside of his stomach. “Also, what’s your name? I never asked,”

“It’s You Zhangjing,” he answers, surprisingly without stuttering.

“Ah, now my brain knows the name for the guy it always thinks about,” Yanjun says very casually and Zhangjing wonders how exactly can this guy not run out of puns, jokes, pick-up lines and all kinds of smooth remarks. At this line, the older can practically feels his face burning.

Zhangjing covers his mouth with a hand and coughs, all flustered, but he brushes it off. Yanjun seems like the type who would flirt with anyone, or anything – even a trash bin. He doesn’t want to put a lot of thought into it; Yanjun says all those in such a nonchalant manner that hint at the other that he shouldn’t be taking them so seriously. “No joke today?”

“Huh, I thought you hated them?”

He holds up his index finger to his lips, slightly brushing. “Shh,”

“Okay, so . . . why couldn’t the gardener plant any flowers? Because he hadn’t botany.”

“Get out,” he says, pointing to the door, but the look on his face that says he’s actually stifling his laugh says otherwise. It’s admittedly better than the dandelion pick-up line the previous day.

Yanjun shakes his head, his hair bouncing a bit as he does. “Even if you’d actually rather have me stay?”

He’s right.

 

The door opens halfway. Yanjun, one foot in the shop and one foot out, keeps the door in place with one hand gripping the handle. “Knock knock,” he says, actually knocking with his other hand.

He looks like a fool.

Passerbys, even those of his school can be seen walking past him but Yanjun doesn’t care. Some people look at him even after they’ve passed by, appalled. Zhangjing catches himself smiling again. He can’t believe how the handsome guy he was intimidated by turned out to be friendly and childish – mostly childish, the positive kind. “The door’s literally open!” he calls out.

“Just go along with the joke,” He knocks again.

Zhangjing rolls his eyes playfully. “Fine, who’s there?”

“Abby,”

“Abby who?”

“Abby good if you give me a flower.”

He scoffs. “What the hell, that’s so bad,”

Yanjun shrugs and finally enters. “But really, you don’t mind if I come here to see you every day, right?”

“I wouldn’t if you would stop with your cold jokes,”

His arms are raised and head head leans against his hands. He closes his eyes and relaxes. With one sense out, the scent of the flowers became stronger. “Well . . . I guess I’m going to have to stop since I do want to see you every day,”

“You pot head,”

 Zhangjing’s voice sound closer, then there’s the sound of a tinkle in front of him. He opens his eyes again and sees the florist is sitting beside him and has brought a tray of tea, now placed on the round, coffee table – wooden, like a lot of items in the shop.

 

Another day, another joke.

It’s not like Zhangjing really minded.

“What did the earth dandelion say to the alien dandelion? Take me to your weeder.”

Zhangjing doesn’t have to stifle a laugh because he doesn’t find it funny in the first place. Instead, he exaggerates a fake laugh when Yanjun pouts at him again. The older notices the younger hasn’t sat down yet and before he could point it out, Yanjun speaks.

“Ah, and I came here to buy two roses too,” he announces. “For tomorrow.”

Two roses – the same order when Yanjun first entered the shop.

Zhangjing opens the large refrigerator, the sudden rush of cool air tickling his skin once again. He reaches and takes two roses near the back, his thumb and index finger holding them gently by the stem. Repeating routine steps, he then slips the roses in another pretty, clear white flower sleeve before coming back out and handing it to the younger.

Having settled his bag on the counter for the meanwhile, Yanjun takes the roses with his left hand and with his right, he takes one of the cards and writes – and maybe even draws? It’s hard to tell with the strokes – on it with the pen customers are provided – the one attached to with a plastic cord like how banks do. The other is staring at him while he does it so he angles himself that Zhangjing wouldn’t see what he’s writing

“Is it for your first date now?” the florist jokes.

“Actually, yeah,” And so Zhangjing’s heart drops.

Right. If someone as gorgeous as this person goes to buy flowers, it must be for his date.

 

It’s 16:13; 4:13 post meridiem.

To Zhangjing however, it’s a few minutes after Yanjun’s dismissal time.

The older of the two isn’t expecting the younger today, since he said he has a date. So it’s to Zhangjing’s surprise when just in time, Yanjun shows up by the door, and the florist is puzzled as to why exactly Yanjun is in his shop at this very moment – too puzzled that he doesn’t notice the other’s bag is slung on his shoulder, hand behind his back.

The student breathes in first, the intoxicating fragrance of the flowers having become familiar to him. Now he has an idea of what home smells like – or how it feels to have a home.

“I thought you had a date today?” Zhangjing asks, eyebrows raised; he doesn’t bother to stand up and put his phone down. Perhaps Yanjun came for his daily joke and will then be on his way.

“Exactly,” Yanjun says, and the other is even more confused. He grins and shows what he’s been hiding – the same two flowers from yesterday. “My date is here.”

Zhangjing blinks.

Zhangjing blinks again.

He makes himself look like a fool when he looks around to look for the person and the other chuckles. “It’s you, you dummy,” The student hands the florist the roses and the latter takes them. A surprised look is on his face, and a kaleidoscope of butterflies in his stomach.

“Oh my god, wait, is this another one of your jokes, wait, let me process this first,”

“You’re so cute.” Yanjun bends down to lean on the counter, resting his crossed arms on its wooden surface, leaning forward to look at the other better. His dimple is showing again – the same one that made Zhangjing’s heart skip a beat the first time they met – and Zhangjing, still at a loss for words, is wondering what he did in his past life for him to deserve a man as perfect as Lin Yanjun. He’s smiling so widely right now, the corners of his mouth almost from ear to ear.

Suddenly, he remembers the card Yanjun wrote on yesterday, and he sees it stuck on the flower sleeve with a double-sided tape. He takes a deep breath before turning the flap of the card over and, reminiscent of their first meeting, his smile disappears as quick as it appeared.

“God really is fair,” Zhangjing says and it’s Yanjun’s turn to be confused.

“Huh?”

He scoots his chair forward so he could prop his elbows up on the counter, cradling his face with his hands. His head is tilted upwards, looking at the other straight in the eye before saying, “He gave my boyfriend everything except the ability to make funny jokes,”

Yanjun is offended and opens his mouth to say something when it sinks in. He gulps and feels like his face is turning red. Zhangjing chuckles and now Yanjun knows what home sounds like.

 

On the countertop where Zhangjing had placed the roses, the card is opened. Along with a small doodle of a mint plant, it reads:

For: Zhangjing; From Yanjun

We’re mint to be. <3

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact irl yanjun actually does the suit thing w his ipd uniform jnfjjkn he always (by always i mean ALWAYS, he even did it during the ai ni performance ghfnkjfm) unbuttons it when sitting down then buttons it back again when he stands up :'> where to find a perfect man like this istg
> 
> anyways this was rly self indulgent [again] ngl i love flower shop aus and zhangjun (if it isnt obvious), heh,, im actually surprised at the word count i thought it would be just 1.5k at the most lol ,,, ++ this isnt proofread once again this took me so long to write so i just wanted to post it immediately so tell me if there are any errors!! might edit this later i got lazy at some parts
> 
> my [twt](https://twitter.com/xinchuwun) | [cc](https://curiouscat.com/azorachin)


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